


Don't Ever Tame Your Demons (Always Keep Them On A Leash)

by nobetterlove



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abigail Hobbs Lives, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bottom Will Graham, Dark Will Graham, Episode Fix-it, Fix-It, Hannibal Lecter Being Hannibal Lecter, M/M, Possessive Hannibal Lecter, Smut, Top Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham Knows, Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter in Cuba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29326080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobetterlove/pseuds/nobetterlove
Summary: What if, after Hannibal suggests feeding the dogs and leaving a note, Will agrees to leave with him. They make a swift getaway before Jack knows of their absence, but surprises await them in their final destination. How far will they go to make things work between them?“How long have you wanted this?” Will questioned after a high-quality brown leather bag was thrust into his chest. He took it easily, pulling the long strap across his body. “Fake documents take time, and those clothes – they were perfectly tailored with me in mind.”“Since the beginning, Will. Every inch, step, and jump in our time together was with this in mind.” The words were odd in his mouth, the first time they were verbalized making them sound weird to his ear. In the confines of his head, planning started the second Jack Crawford rudely barged into his office demanding a consultation. Though things shifted and changed throughout their interaction, Hannibal craved this ending – craved the time when Will stepped outside of his chains and stood proudly in the light.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 268





	Don't Ever Tame Your Demons (Always Keep Them On A Leash)

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a gif set on Tumblr that caught my eye and I just sort of ran with the idea. I thought it would be interesting to see Will throw caution to the wind, but present it from Hannibal's POV. I enjoyed piecing this together thoroughly - I hope you feel the same as you read it! 
> 
> I listened to Hozier's Arsonist's Lullaby while writing this up - the chorus especially! Take a listen while you read if you're so inclined.

“We could disappear now. Tonight.” 

As soon as the words were out of Hannibal’s mouth, he felt a burning desire to see them come true. Looking up, he noticed Will watching him, the small lines between his brow now severe with the pinch of curiousness and intrigue.

“Feed your dogs, leave a note for Alana and never see her or Jack again. Almost polite.” With each new idea spewing from his mouth, Hannibal felt a clench in his chest. Ever since smelling Freddie Lounds’s perfume on Will’s clothes the day previous, the future he envisioned crumbled bit by bit. He always knew Will played a dangerous game but held out the slimmest bit of hope that in the end, Will just might choose him, anyway. 

It felt like a last-ditch effort – and by the look on Will’s face, that’s what he thought, too. Hannibal forced himself to suppress a smirk from pulling across his lips. Playing both sides was dangerous, and if things turned out the way he thought they might, Will would cling to that danger until the last breath he drew. 

“Then this will be our last supper,” Will supplied in a breathy tone, the huff of a laugh lacing the last few tones. He flashed Hannibal a forced smile, his fingers fiddling with the stem of his wine glass. Watching him, Hannibal couldn’t quite grasp what was running through his mind.

With a shift in his own seat, Hannibal sucked in a breath. “Of this life.”

Silence saturated the room then, Hannibal’s fingers fiddling with the utensils on either side of his plate. The rack of lamb on the center of the table felt different than before – the spoils of such a delicate meat already like dust on his tongue, despite not even touching it yet. Each particle in the room vibrated with the tension zinging between them; Will’s indecision and Hannibal’s apprehension tangibly heavy. 

Picking up his wine glass, Hannibal was surprised to see Will put his hands resolutely on the table. He forced himself to take a sip before tilting his head in acknowledgement – the feeling like standing with his toes dangling just barely over the edge; one wrong shift of his body and it was all over. 

“Okay. Yeah – let’s do it,” Will said, his voice sounding of certainty. The normal seafoam blue of his eyes were darker now, personifying the raging storm that was obviously taking place, even as he spoke.

Hannibal took a second to look – to really take in everything Will was giving off. Not completely empathetic like Will, Hannibal couldn’t quite get a read on direct emotions, but he knew enough about people and their tells to call a lie when he saw it. It was how he mastered the art himself. The usual signs weren’t there – Will looked directly at him (a thing he did so much more now that they were “equals”) and when their eyes met, broken resolve and resolution were the only thing in existence in those stormy depths. 

While the words took him aback, Hannibal didn’t let it show. He surveyed the table in front of him, the food stood uneaten, a reality that at any other time, Hannibal might be bitchy about. Now, it seemed like the perfect transition from one life to the next. The few seconds of surveillance gave him a second to calm down; the mere thought that Will might take him up on his offer, truly, at least – he never let himself think it. 

How overwhelming it was – actually getting what he wanted. 

Without letting another second pass by, Hannibal pushed back from the table, the scratch of his chair on the floor so uncommon that Will looked up in surprise, eyes wide. 

“We should get moving, then,” Hannibal stated in a way of explanation. A wild thought occurred to him – if they didn’t get into gear right that second, Will might change his mind. Now that his taste buds were wet with the true potential of the idea, Hannibal wasn’t letting it go. Even if that meant sacrificing everything around him. His castle was crumbling, regardless. 

Still looking slightly rattled, Will blinked a few times, his mouth wide open. There were a few seconds where he looked like a fish out of water, the shutter of his lips as he tried to form words hilarious in any other situation. Hannibal watched with interest, the next minute probably one of the most important in his life. 

From being completely alone and enjoying it, to desperately craving Will’s presence – it was frightening, the magnitude of the feeling that simple concept brought with it. Fear sat heavy at the back of his throat, like acid waiting to corrode him away, little by little. 

“What do we need to do?” Will asked, after downing the rest of the wine in his glass. A small red stain sat at the crease of the man’s top lip, marking the moment with its own points of distraction. 

‘Get ahold of yourself,’ Hannibal thought to himself, his brain all the sudden in a state of chaos. Everything they needed was upstairs in one of his safes; new passports, fake names – even a wardrobe to complete the façade. No matter how obvious Will’s struggle to choose a side was, Hannibal couldn’t stop himself form hoping – from wanting something so severely he’d let himself get stuck in a corner without much of a struggle. 

Standing from his chair, Hannibal forced his brain back in order – the rooms of his mind palace were always organized, despite the chaos of the lobby there. It took another couple deep breathes before the ability to speak or breath or even truly think came back online. 

“I’ve got passports and credit cards for the both of us upstairs. I’ll use one of those to book us a flight. I can have everything packed in twenty minutes. Wait for me, Will – we’ll go to Wolf Trapp together.” 

Will nodded with the surety of a final decision made. He too got up from the table, his shoulders set. “Lead the way. I don’t know what I’m doing – I just know that if I miss this, things will never be the same. For me, or you, or between us.” Like he could see the future, Will’s words were eerily on point. The one thing Hannibal wouldn’t take was betrayal, whether he loved Will Graham, or not. 

“And what of Jack? Your plan to trap me is still alive and well in his mind.”

The harsh gust of air, like a stomach punched, brought the slightest sense of satisfaction to the situation – it was in the open now, Hannibal’s understanding of the honey trap set and Will’s part in it. What Will did with that information, that was for him to decide. 

“Hannibal, I – “ Will stopped for a second, his eyes closing in an attempt to find a center, or a grip on the mask he chose to wear around everyone. Blue eyes were clear when they glanced up again, that resolute look there once more. “What you did to me – how ingrained you truly made yourself, I didn’t know if I could live with it. The things you brought out in me, the things I wanted. All the fighting and scheming, it showed me one thing. We’re intertwined, Hannibal. At this point, I don’t think either of us would survive the separation.” 

“So we leave without a trace, then.” The words were final, like the thick thump of a judge’s gavel at the end of a verdict. Though he still smarted from even the thought of being played, Hannibal nodded his head and turned out of the room to make a beeline for the stairs. There wasn’t time to think, let alone dwell. Forgiveness, despite being something that may pop up again, wasn’t what they needed at the moment.

Unsurprisingly, Will wasn’t far behind him – the man obviously unwilling to be separated after such a big revelation. They made quick work of the stairs, ending up in Hannibal’s room before either could say anything, or take a breath (it seemed that way, at least). Long legs carried him into his walk-in closet, suits and outfits brushed aside in favor of opening the safe that was built into the back wall. With a couple of easy flicks of his wrist, Hannibal got it open – the smell of old moth balls filling his nose. 

He grabbed Will’s new identity first – Noah Ashford, his last name known for meaning the edge of a sword, much like Will’s very presence in his life. The picture was generic, Will’s curls pushed back from his forehead with a bit of product, his sea foam eyes made a dark brown with the wonders of photoshop and contacts when the time came. When creating the persona, Hannibal couldn’t bear to part with any more of Will’s beautiful traits. 

Handing it over, Hannibal waited for the questions as he continued to dig through the safe for his own documentation. The face of Devon Ashford looked back at him, only slight appearance changes made for him, as well. Instead of the dirty blonde hair he wore now, Devon sported a dark, almost black look. His shirt in the picture was one without a collar – this new character he needed to personify much more laid back in his wardrobe. 

Hannibal could feel Will breathing down his neck, the profiler’s perusal of Hannibal’s identity apparent in the sharp intake of breath. “I’m assuming the joint last name doesn’t mean that we’re brothers,” Will remarked, an awkward chuckle lacing the words. 

“Not brothers, no. It would be unusual for two men to not only travel together but take up joint quarters without some sort of backstory. Marriage seemed like the lesser evil. When asked, you simply tell them I’m your husband – no further explanation needed.” 

It wasn’t missed by either of them, the flash of satisfaction that Hannibal didn’t quite catch in time. Will’s eyes were heavy as he looked at him – his thoughts, too, seemed to be moving a mile a minute. Hannibal wondered, not for the first time, what exactly Will could feel coming from him. Did the lust and something love-like come across? Was it truly such a profound thing – the two of them together, even in a fake sense? 

While silence descended on them, Hannibal continued to sort through their needed paperwork. There were multiple accounts set up several different places that were untraceable – not connected to the Lecter name in a single way. There wouldn’t be any struggle for money in their near future. A couple of those accounts were tied to the credit cards in the brown and black wallets now in his hands. 

“There’s enough money in cash to get you anywhere you need to go if we were to be split up.” Hannibal turned back to will, speaking as he handed over the brown wallet. The ID sleeve also had a Texas driver’s license with the same name and picture as Will’s passport. “I hope you won’t have to use it.” 

“I won’t. If I’m going, I’m going all the way. Can’t get rid of me now, Hannibal,” Will retorted, almost immediately. His cheeks were a little pink from the intensity of his words. 

For once, Hannibal didn’t feel the need to question – he simply nodded and shut the safe. 

The next few minutes were spent packing the rack closest to them; over the last few weeks, Hannibal acquired tailored items in both his and Will’s sizes. Though Devin’s aura was more bohemian and artistic, Hannibal refused to completely dress down. The clothes for Will were better quality versions of what he already wore before. The destination Hannibal had in mind would lend beautifully to a career as a fisherman – the life of suits and dressing up more than likely behind them both. 

“How long have you wanted this?” Will questioned after a high-quality brown leather bag was thrust into his chest. He took it easily, pulling the long strap across his body. “Fake documents take time, and those clothes – they were perfectly tailored with me in mind.” 

“Since the beginning, Will. Every inch, step, and jump in our time together was with this in mind.” The words were odd in his mouth, the first time they were verbalized making them sound weird to his ear. In the confines of his head, planning started the second Jack Crawford rudely barged into his office demanding a consultation. Though things shifted and changed throughout their interaction, Hannibal craved this ending – craved the time when Will stepped outside of his chains and stood proudly in the light. 

“You wouldn’t change any of it, would you? Framing me, letting my mind melt – killing Abigail?” His words were dry, more like statements than actual bids to seek knowledge; Will knew the answer to his question, knew the answer way before either of them were truly aware of what was to come. The topic of Abigail, however – many things needed to be cleared up. 

“Abigail isn’t dead, Will,” Hannibal stated calmly, his stomach clenching with the revelation. Abigail stood as the last pawn standing between him and a checkmate that would severely change his life. In a lot of ways, his feelings and attempts at aid were genuine. He understood what it was like to play along in order to survive. Getting out on the other side didn’t leave a person unscarred, and the opportunity for her to escape that fate was the least he could do. 

Will’s eyes were tear-soaked, the fatter drops at the edge of them threatening to fall. Strong hands clenching and unclenching around the wallet still in his grip, a visibly concentrated effort to stay in control. 

The next thing Hannibal knew, a sharp fist flew into his vision – an accurate punch landing right against the apple of his cheek. A sudden flare of pain forced him to take a step back, the sound of hangers clanking together with impact drowning out the pathetic whimper Hannibal wasn’t able to stop. One hand came up to press against his cheek – he raised the other in front of him, his only line of a defense. 

“She’s alive? You let me think she was dead this whole time and she’s alive? What the fuck, Hannibal?” Will screamed at him, the space between them dwindled down to nothing with as few steps as he spoke. They were nose to nose within an instant, Will’s hand balled up in the front of his shirt yanking them that much closer. It was intimate – the two of them standing within millimeters of each other. 

“I thought of it as protecting you both. She needed a new start and I gave her the perfect way to have one. I – it wasn’t my intention to keep you in the dark. As the time past, it was easier – I didn’t know where you stood or what actions may be necessary.” 

“I want to talk to her. Find me a way to do that before we do anything else.” Through his commands, Will’s hand tightened on Hannibal’s shirt – his grip so taut that the first button was pulled almost completely from its thread. He made no move to create space between them, even when Hannibal shifted to dig into his pockets. 

Looking off to the side with the miniscule space, he navigated his phone, inputting the multiple passcodes until the address book popped up. Selecting Nova Ashford, Hannibal pressed the phone in Will’s direction. 

Only then did he step back, the phone at his ear in an instant. Breathily, Will muttered “Abigail?” into the phone – a look of pure shock sliding across his face when that all too familiar voice sounded across the line. 

For a while, Hannibal listened to one side of the conversation. Will asked the obvious questions and with each answer, he saw the madness in Will’s eyes change; they were no longer murderous, but jubilant – like winning the lottery and finding the dog that’d been missing for months. 

Throughout the conversation, his eyes drifted to Hannibal. There was trepidation in his expression – the slightest pinch of contentment existing in the moment, too. A juxtaposition of confusing feelings very much their MO. 

By the time Will hung up the phone, tears tracked down his face – his cheeks were red and though a little less murderous, still hot with resentment. For the first time in his entire existence, Hannibal wanted to look away. His skin crawled at the feeling, weakness and the novel feeling of regret like bugs along his pores. An odd compulsion to go entirely mute fought its way up his chest – it hadn’t been this way since then… since her. 

“You’re goddamn sick, Hannibal. If it wasn’t for the fact that our daughter sounds happier than ever, I’d kill you myself,” Will muttered icily, his voice sharp, yet eerily silent in its delivery. The ire in it almost distracted him from the empath’s word choice – our daughter. 

Tilting his head, the same way a small dog would, Hannibal quirked a brow, his chest on fire with a fiery longing. “Our daughter?” His voice sounded meek, the hope in each word dripping from the syllables. It was like learning to shape his mouth all over again – words, English especially, like fleeting ships in the night. It felt like too much to smile, but the control it took to stop it almost didn’t seem worth it. 

“Yeah, ours – you and me. Don’t do anything like this again, Hannibal. I’ll kill you if something ever happens to her.” Will narrowed their distance down to nothing, once again – his chest pressing into Hannibal’s. “No more games. No more manipulations – I’m going with you, but as your equal, not your plaything.” 

“Partners, then.” Hannibal replied, his eyes closing at the contact. He leaned his head against Will’s shoulder, both hands framing slim hips with the lightest of touch. There wasn’t anything more than comfort to it, despite Hannibal not really deserving even that. Self-deprecation wasn’t his bag – for just a moment, however, he let himself soak in the pout and the solace that came with it. 

The embrace lasted for what felt like seconds, then Will pulled away, the walls around his soul slipping right back into their place. “We should go – I want to say goodbye to my dogs before we leave.” 

Nodding, Hannibal straightened himself, his hands making quick work of taking off the waistcoat and bow tie around his neck, adjusting the person suit to fit the new mold. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt and popped the first two buttons. While Will took care of his business in Wolf Trapp, Hannibal would fix his hair to fit the picture of his next persona.

Within a couple of minutes, everything that Hannibal needed fit into two leather bags. Most of his possessions were part of the well-crafted environment, the small knick-knacks conversation starters and outward expressions of the tiny parts of himself the world could see.

Wherever they went, an opportunity to create a new collection of things existed – with Will by his side, outward expression didn’t matter much. Being seen, exposing parts that only existed within him, that tore off a layer that wouldn’t grow back. The raw feeling that dug deeply smarted, the wound one that was tender and new, yet promising enough to scar, anyway. 

He did a last minute look around the place – his suit of armor one of the only things he might miss in his departure. Perhaps Chiyoh was worth looking up after all this time. While looking around, he broke into his stash of burner phones and booked them a ticket to Mexico City.

Will stood by the front door and watched him walk the perimeter and straighten up – regardless of the fact that they would never see this house again; would probably never make it back to the states, either – not if they were smart. With confirmation of their tickets on hand, Hannibal met will at the door, a nervous smile on his face. 

“There’s a red eye to Mexico City – we’ve got about three hours before we need to be at Washington Dulles.” 

There was a silent exchange, eyes speaking volumes – deep blue stared at him unblinking for a second, the gaze searching. Will took one last look around himself, recognition of the loss in his eyes. With a brief nod, Hannibal ducked his head and led them out the door. He didn’t bother locking it, once the door was closed, this leg of life was over. 

Their bags in the backseat looked good together on the beat-up seat – dog hair covering every surface of it. Speckles of it already covered the fine leather, but somehow, it seemed right. The drive out to Wolf Trapp was tense and quick – the time constraint and finality of the move together thick in its meaning. 

Leaving meant expression of guilt – without being there to defend themselves, or hide even, there’d be no going back. Hannibal didn’t make any move to get rid of the things in his home. If the doorway to his basement was ever found, all his secrets had nowhere to hide. Going with Hannibal, Will turned his back on what he fought so hard to protect, even after it fucked him over. 

It didn’t feel right, interrupting Will’s time with his pack. As much as he wanted to be able to keep Will’s family together, getting dogs over borders wasn’t easy to keep under the radar. When they settled, local animals would flock to him – Will’s charm spoke to the overlooked in the world wherever he went. 

Will walked out a short time later, his face a little splotchy, with a backpack slung over his shoulder. The knee length leather jacket and gelled hair added a sort of elegance that didn’t exist when Will walked into the house. The brown eyes that stared back at him were a little off putting – Hannibal relied on the calm of the seawater depths of blue in Will’s eyes. He blinked twice, committing the new look to memory. 

His own black hair looked odd in the reflection of the window – the leave in dye he worked in with his fingers took on a dark tint that spoke of its synthetic nature. Running fingers through his hair, Hannibal reminded himself of the turn-around. Once they were across the border and into a secure place, disguises wouldn’t be necessary. With a little length in his hair and a deep tan, Hannibal looked completely different. 

“What’s next?” Will asked, the car door shutting behind him. He sat in the driver’s seat with his hands on the wheel, so many questions in his eyes. 

“There’s no use in making the chase easy for them. I have a couple cars in garages around the city we can drive to and leave at the airport. We’ll remove your license plate and peel off the registration to add a bit of legwork. If you head towards the highway, I can instruct you from there.” 

\---- 

Getting out of town before Jack became aware of their movements made getting through security at the airport simple. The man checking their tickets and identification didn’t even blink an eye – he simply stamped their tickets and prattled off their gate. It was almost too easy – stepping away from old lives like the time spent in them didn’t actually matter. In a way, it didn’t; not when the option to return no longer existed. 

The wait in the airport wasn’t long – after ditching Will’s car, they piled into a faded blue unregistered civic that Hannibal used to make out of town trips and transportations. Their drive out to the garage was more than an hour, the turnaround to the airport a little bit longer. By the time they sat at the gate, they were minutes away from first class boarding. 

“Do you think first class is a good idea?” Will asked when they sat down, his eyes taking in the printout of their tickets for the first time. 

The nonstop flight to Mexico City was a long one – spending Devin Ashford’s money on a little extra leg room wasn’t a crime. “I purchased the tickets under a name that no one has any reason to question. Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham only exist between you and I now – Noah and Devin are free to do whatever they like.” 

A grimace passed across Will’s face quicker than he could stop it. Will’s eye shifted to him with the smallest look of apology – Hannibal understood the constant struggle between love and hate; Will very obviously struggled with it from the very beginning. 

“It’s going to take some getting used to – I’m sorry.” He leaned into Hannibal as he spoke, the touch meant to soothe the blow. 

Pushing his luck, Hannibal wrapped an arm around Will’s shoulders, the space between them narrowed down to nothing. The next time he spoke, Hannibal’s lips were right against Will’s ear – “Do not apologize, dear Will. Your presence here is enough.” He didn’t add the ‘for now’ that echoed so loudly in his head. 

Recklessness was contagious – his behavior the last few weeks revolved around emotions and half-baked thoughts. Will did something to him; every wall and carefully crafted move and plan went by the wayside the second he got a whiff of anything from Will. The straight and narrow hard when emotions came into play. He hoped the steps they were making allowed him to truly get a grip and find that sense of control over himself again. Being so untethered wasn’t natural – wasn’t good for the stone wall he needed to be. 

His musings were interrupted by the first-class boarding announcement. Breaking the contact to get up, Hannibal gestured for Will to go in front of him, the two hanging back until the rest of the patrons in their section were already walking down the entrance terminal to the plane. Their seats were in the very back of the section, anyway. 

Their seats were separated by a small partition between them, the space just enough to be comfortable, but not too far away to not talk privately. Will took the seat closest to the window, nimble hands reaching up to shut it without another thought. The row lights were on and a small overhead bulb shone a yellowy-orange hue. The mood was set for easy boarding and a smooth transition from ground to air. 

“I’ve never flown first class before – the first time I ever boarded a plane, I was squashed between Jack and Zeller, on the FBIs dime. It’s nice, kind of worth it.” Will looked at him while he spoke, the intensity of his gaze still the same, despite the mud brown contacts. Oh, how he craved to see the gentle blue in that moment. 

The words were a peace offering – surrender to a situation that, when all was said and done, Wil chose on his own free will. 

“Here in a few minutes, when they dim the lights and the need for sleep takes over, you’ll see its true worth,” Hannibal replied softly, taking the gesture for what it was worth. He reached over to brush his fingers over Will’s hand. The skin there was warm, the back of his knuckles a little dry from long minutes of hands without gloves in the cold of Baltimore’s winter. “Thank you.” 

Will quirked a brow, the surprise at Hannibal’s utterance obvious in the gesture. The tip of his tongue peaked out, tracing the right corner in thought. Hannibal watched him, maroon eyes attempting to take all of him in in order to put the pieces together – to understand why and how and what next the same way Will could. 

He ended up watching the pink of his tongue, instead – the baser part of his brain stepping forward in control’s absence. It took too much thought to stop his hands from tightening on Will’s, the freedom of touch not given, despite the brush of skin against skin already. 

So many times, Hannibal took Will’s ability to choose for granted – forcing his hand with withheld information and subtle manipulations. Making it work meant giving up on swaying Will’s choice or ripping the decision from him completely. Will wanted equality; a compromise that demanded very little – even for Hannibal. 

In the end, Will didn’t verbally answer; he simply turned his hand in Hannibal’s grip and let their palms rest together, his fingers tangling between the seam of Hannibal’s. There wasn’t much to say, anyway – not where anyone that wanted to listen could. For now, the soft touch was enough. 

As predicted, Will feel asleep fairly quickly – the lateness of the hour and stress of the day produced a killer cocktail. Hannibal, however, couldn’t seem to settle. Will’s hand in his own acted as a huge distraction, the many lines on the palm of his hands and the callouses that brushed against his skin were important to catalogue – each stimulus needed to perfect this vision of Will in his head. Sight, touch, sound, smell – there wasn’t a thing Hannibal didn’t pay implicit attention to. He wanted to know Will; down to the very atom. 

Every so often, Will’s hand tightened, his eyes moving rapidly behind his eyelids – a dream or scenario playing itself out in the grasp of sleep. His body shifted, like it was trying to run away. Hannibal simply let his thumb brush against the back of Will’s hand and kept his grip consistent throughout. Whatever might’ve overtaken Will at any other time faded away, his body relaxing not long after the soothing touch started. 

It went that way for the entirety of the flight. In the moments when detaching his hand became prudent, Hannibal went about his business, then reestablished the connection; the action both selfless and selfish all at once. It felt good to provide comfort – it felt even better to feel Will’s touch against his skin. 

Almost seven hours later, they touched down in Mexico City – their first stop for the next couple of hours. Hannibal shook Will’s shoulder until bleary eyes were staring back at him, Will’s disorientation obvious in the drawback of his arm. He blinked a few times, trying to find his way back to the land of the living. After a couple of long breaths, recognition played across his face, the slightest sign of a smile visible at the corners of his lips. 

“Was I asleep the whole time?” 

“Yes. Relatively peacefully, I might add.” 

“That’s different – I haven’t slept more than a couple of hours in years. And I’m not sweaty,” Will murmured with a bit of surprise in his voice. He yawned widely, tilting his head. “What happens next? Mexico City and then what?” 

“A two-hour layover and a flight to Havana, Cuba – where I own an out of the way cabana right off of the water. We should be free to convalesce there for a long time, if we’re careful.” That answer was simple; what happened after they got there – even he didn’t know that. 

“I’m sure you have multiple houses around the world, why Cuba?” 

“I want you to be happy, Will. I can make a life anywhere – the benefit of never exposing my true self is the ability to adapt. Only you know those deep parts of me. I can sketch and listen to music and cook – where we are doesn’t matter. You need things; space to breath, water near you, the slightest bit of isolation. Cuba seemed like the place that would best provide.” 

Will was silent, his brown-eyed stare intense with every second of information absorption that took place. Hannibal watched him play the words over in his mouth, and then again when they soaked in and registered in that beautiful brain of his. His eyebrows were pinched together, confusion and actualization and understanding apparent in his every feature. 

With the turbulence of their relationship, from allies to enemies to something completely other, Hannibal understood the hesitancy – the need to truly know. Will’s ability to read and categorize emotions depended on an understanding, a previous interaction with similar before. Hannibal played his entire hand so close to vest that it was all foreign, despite the feelings existing since the very beginning. They were Hannibal’s own brand and would take some getting used to – just like Will said. 

Instead of touching on the emotional aspect of Hannibal’s words, Will looked down, a smile slipping across his lips. “Do you have a boat at this house?” 

Despite himself, Hannibal felt his lips quirk, the pinch of his eyes the only real sign of anything resembling a smile gracing his face. “We do, yes. It may take a little work to get back into shape, however. It has been some years since I spent any time at the property.” 

That seemed to smooth things over – when the plane landed, Will followed Hannibal down the terminal without any hesitation. They spent some time hunting down palatable food, then spent the rest of the wait in companionable silence. Neither had a working phone, or anyone to contact – in that instant, all they really had were each other. 

While reveling in that feeling, Hannibal floated between consciousness and sleep during the last leg of their journey. None of the major news sources had their faces plastered across their front pages, but that fact would change quickly once Jack noticed their absence. If they were lucky, they’d be in Cuba unscathed before anyone even caught on. Once there, the risks reduced exponentially. No extradition treaty existed with the US, their crimes were void in the eyes of the Cuban government – if they were careful, no connection would ever be made, anyway. 

They arrived to a hot, muggy, late Havana afternoon – their travels taking a little less than a day in total. It’d been much longer since Hannibal last showered, and even longer still since he consumed food worthy of his finer tastes. The motivation to get a cab and get to their lodgings was high, Will looking around just as anxiously as they waited amongst the crowd hoping for transportation, too.

Their cab driver didn’t bother with any niceties, and Hannibal didn’t give any out freely. Politeness on hold for the time being. He relayed the needed information and tucked back against the seat; the fatigue of travel written all over him. Deep black circles sat under his eyes; the lack of real sleep apparent in the sallowness of his skin. The temperature kept a sheen of sweat on the surface of his skin – a fact that they would both need to get used to. The concept of multiple seasons didn’t exist; hot and hotter were the only options. 

A quick exchange of money at the end of the driveway marked the end of their travel. Will watched with curious eyes, his lack of language knowledge and cultural understanding a hurdle that would need to be taken – one that Will would master without much effort when the time came. They shared a silent look, a sort of happiness tangible in the stare – just a few feet of walking and the turbulent mess of feelings and decisions and running away was officially over. A reality that Hannibal couldn’t wait to be a part of. 

Except, the open door behind the screen door at the front of the house wasn’t what Hannibal expected to find. He took a trip into his mind palace to recall what the house looked like when he last stayed in it – a thick blue door closed tightly behind the screen door, the brass of the door handle sticking out obnoxiously in his memory.

“There’s someone in the house,” Hannibal said, an edge to his voice. His muscles were tightening up, the concept of a fight registering the closer they got to the door. 

Will didn’t say anything – he simply matched Hannibal step for step. They entered the house one right after the other, their closeness covering the other’s back. Looking around, Hannibal brought a hand to his mouth, a steady look in his eye. “Hello – is there anyone here?” His voice echoed around the mostly empty house. Within seconds, a cacophony of noises followed his call – something dropped, and footsteps followed closely behind. 

When they eventually encountered the intruder, they were in the kitchen, the house’s only available weapons now within reach. The man looked like a squatter, his demeanor and wardrobe shouting drifter – nomad, not to be missed by many. There was surprise in his eyes, like he never thought the owner of a beautifully furnished, fancy house like this one would eventually return.

There was a second of eye contact where Hannibal thought about their next couple of options. Then, the man was moving, trying desperately to get past them and out the door.

What happened next would forever take up a permanent space in Hannibal’s mind palace. The memory stark and perfect.

Will, who stood by his side only seconds before, reached across the counter and grabbed a knife from the block of them against the wall. Before the squatter could take another step, the edge of it moved quickly across his throat – the line of blood swift and dark as it covered Will in spray, then trickled down onto the ceramic where it immediately started to pool. 

Thrown completely, Hannibal looked at Will with wide eyes, pride and surprise fighting for grip over his emotions. He took this Will in – his chest was heaving, fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of the knife. Blood covered his face and chest, the dark leather of the jacket making the red blood look dark and menacing. His nostrils were flared, the rate of his breathing hitching with realization of what just happened. 

Will looked at him over his shoulder, the beautiful devastation of taking one step closer to his true nature registering in fake brown pools. The way he looked right now, Hannibal wanted to drop to his knees and worship – the conscious representation of a demon that Will tried to tame absolutely gorgeous in its expression. 

Instead, Hannibal narrowed the space between them, his arms wrapping tightly around Will’s middle to ground him. The knife hit the floor, Will’s entire body collectively relaxing into Hannibal’s touch without a single ounce of fight. Will tucked his head against Hannibal’s chest, the blood covering him soaking into the white shirt sticking to this chest. Strong arms wrapped around Hannibal’s neck, the clench of them pulling them closer.

“Do you see now, Will? This is all I’ve ever wanted for you – for both of us.” 

A nose in his throat was Will’s answer, breath painting the skin there. “It’s beautiful,” Will muttered, the words muffled. His tears and the blood coating every inch of him magnified the experience for Hannibal. Each sense played a part in the greatness of the moment – smell, taste, touch, even the raged breathing against him. 

They stayed that way for a while – long enough for the blood to dry and their clothes to stick to already sweat-slick skin. There was blood everywhere, something that needed to be dealt with sooner rather than later. It took a lot of effort, but Hannibal pulled away, elation and happiness spilling from his every pore. 

“Go upstairs and get clean,” Hannibal instructed, looking first at Will, then the mess at their feet. “I’ll get to work on cleaning this up and follow suit.” The idea of having fresh meat for their dinners later played across the forefront of his mind – a wicked sort of glee settling over him. 

Will looked dubious for half a second, before nodding and turning towards the stairs. It looked like he might reach for the leather bags waiting for them by the door but thought better of it at the last minute – the sheer amount of blood on him finally registering. Hannibal stood rigidly in his spot until he heard the shower start up. Only then did he formulate a plan and get to work. 

The opportunity for fresh meat won out over blood stains on the floor. Hannibal did a thorough harvest of all the organs that seemed usable. He fileted the thick pieces of meat from the squatter’s back and thighs, then took each viable organ. The bones would be used for broth and collagen to thicken soups when more time to deconstruct the body became available. For now, Hannibal felt content to wrap his haul and deposit the body into the deep freeze in the house’s basement (all of his real estate purchases had one). 

Before moving onto his next chore, Hannibal thoroughly washed his hands and carried their bags upstairs. He deposited Will’s on the bed of his chosen room – the closeness to his own hard not to miss, not to think too deeply about. Trying to think of anything else, Hannibal unpacked his things and headed back down the stairs to tackle the blood. 

Mopping up and disinfecting the flat tile of the floor took another couple of hours – each of which Will kept himself locked away in his chosen room. In another world, Hannibal might’ve been irritated by that fact. He didn’t often clean up anyone else’s messes without keeping them on some sort of leash afterwards. With Will, Hannibal knew he’d spend the rest of his life doing exactly that if the vision from earlier became a regular thing. Will looked radiant – the true person within finally showing through the cracks of facades and societal boundaries. 

Hannibal climbed the stairs a few hours later, drenched in sweat and soapy water, tiredness and exhilaration sitting on his shoulders. With every piece of clothing he stripped out of, Hannibal took another step towards this new beginning – one that started with a glorious and unpredicted bang. 

After a quick shower, Hannibal barely managed to pull on boxer briefs, his limbs weren’t going to move for much longer and the soft mattress waiting in the bedroom called his name with smooth, melodic tones. He climbed under the covers, uncaring of anything other than his head hitting the pillow and sleep overcoming him. 

The bed shifting a few hours later woke him from a deep sleep. A sudden gust of air conditioning caressed his sleep warm skin as Will drew the blankets back. He didn’t even need to open his eyes to recognize the infiltrator – Will once again smelt like warmth and outdoors, the subtle coppery tang of blood sitting just barely on the surface. Hannibal rolled onto his back, his arm settling in the open space on the other side of the bed. Will took the silent invitation for what it was and climbed into Hannibal’s arms, his face pressing into Hannibal’s chest almost instantly. 

No words were exchanged, both under the spell of comfortable sleep within seconds of coming together.

\---- 

The following weeks were filled with adjustment – the heat and humidity were something the body needed to get used to, and despite being “friends” for so long, existing in close quarters took a bit of patience and trial and error. Will liked silence and space. Hannibal liked noise and movement. 

It didn’t take long for the two of them to find a pattern that worked, however. Hannibal started the day with the other side of the bed empty, regardless of the fact that throughout the night, it wasn’t. Will woke up in the early hours of the morning and took to chores outdoors – the promised boat in the small nautical house at the end of the dock taking precedence. Every day, Hannibal lured Will back to the house with the promise of a good breakfast and a lacking push for more – or anything at all. 

Not worried about jobs or money right off the bat, Hannibal used his free time to sketch and compose at the piano in the study. One day, when people weren’t looking for them any longer, Hannibal wanted a harpsicord again, the spot for it already picked out in the little haven they were attempting to build.

Things weren’t cold between them – simply nonexistent when Will could get away with it. Though he sought out comfort in the wee hours of the night, their touches and softly whispered words didn’t cross the threshold of the king-sized bed they shared. No amount of desperation could sway Hannibal to take something that wasn’t rightfully his – that wasn’t willingly given by a receptive party. If this was all he got from Will until the end of his days, Hannibal would die content. 

The subject, or even the inclination, of killing didn’t pop up. Things were too new, and the corpse of the squatter Will disposed of still sat in the deep freeze, waiting to be dealt with completely. To threaten their safety for a little burst of thrill wasn’t pertinent – maintaining whatever he could with Will, that’s what really mattered. 

Like most things, the elephant in the room Will tactfully avoided barged into their lives without much fanfare, but completely out of nowhere. Will looked up at him from across the dining room table, his bite of food still suspended on his fork. The words, when he said them, seemed to come from deep within, falling out of his chest and mouth without much permission from the man himself. 

“Are you in love with me?” Will asked, a curiousness in his voice that Hannibal could never pass up beforehand (and still couldn’t). He set his fork down, food and all, and shifted his attention to Hannibal fully. 

“What I mean to say is – this, you and me, it’s all you’ve ever wanted. Does that extend to everything in life, or just the terrifying thrill of killing together?”

Wanting to buy some time, Hannibal gripped the stem of his wine glass and took a deep sip, the tannins in the wine hitting his taste buds delightfully – the distraction just enough to get his thoughts in order. 

“I want whatever you’ll give me, Will. I’ve been content, sharing the days with you. Do I crave you? Do I want to know what every inch of your skin feels like under my tongue? Does it haunt me, the way I feel about you? Yes – in all the ways love complicates things, I do. I can live with what we’re building, just the way it is. A hunger will always exist, though – I cannot deny that.” 

“And if I wanted everything, what then?” Will continued, the question rolling easily off his tongue, like maybe he rehearsed it, or thought for long hours before presenting it for Hannibal’s perusal.

“It’s yours.” Hannibal swallowed around the nervousness in his throat, the feeling bubbling up, desperately trying to spill out between them. Unsure of what was to come, apprehension filled all Hannibal’s empty spaces.

Instead of something profound suddenly occurring, Will simply nodded his head, his fingers wrapped tightly around the fork to bring his previous bite of food to his mouth – like nothing had happened, like no life-changing questions were asked. 

It took Hannibal a second to catch on, the shift one that came out of the blue and left the very same way. Taking another long drink of wine, Hannibal collected himself and finished the food in front of him. 

Hours later, tucked under the light comforter of his bed, Hannibal contemplated the evening, his eyes flitting to the door every so often – he felt impatient for it to open, for Will to finally stick his head in and ask his silent question with the slightest tilt of his head. Tonight, more than any other night, Hannibal needed the other man’s presence. 

His silent plea went unanswered for a couple of hours of restless tossing and turning. Every noise sounded like the door opening, and when it wasn’t, a sense of disappointment creeped in. That disappointment shifted to weakness and the unease cycle started back over again. He all but gave up on getting rest by the time Will opened the door. The lack of sleepiness in his eyes spoke of Will’s own struggle, the thought one that made him feel a little better; at least he wasn’t the only one. 

Sitting up against his pile of pillows, Hannibal patted Will’s side of the bed. Hannibal wasn’t sure when he started referring to it like that, but it felt good – right in all the ways Will by his side always had. 

“I do, Hannibal – want everything,” Will started, taking the few steps between the door and the bed. His frame barely shifted the mattress as he got into the bed and under the covers. With the slightest shift, their legs were pressed from hip to ankle. Neither made another move – Will still had more to say. 

“I think I always have, too. For a while, before things got out of hand, you were the only thing truly keeping me from capsizing. There’s this special connection between us – I never imagined it ran as deep as it does, but it’s there – tethering us so tightly together. I don’t know where you stop, and I begin. I wanted to hate you; you hurt me so deeply and I didn’t even see it coming. I felt betrayed, Hannibal. Like what exists between us meant nothing.” 

Will turned onto his side, one of his hands making slow work up Hannibal’s arm to settle in the middle of his chest. “I tried hard, too. But I can’t – I never have.” He stopped talking then, his body pressed against Hannibal’s side, so flush it felt like they were sharing breath. “We’re in this together, or not at all. Kills, sex, life – I want to be a part of it, decision making and all.” 

His hand moved again, cupping the side of Hannibal’s face with a soft brush of his thumb against sharp cheek bones. “Can you do that? No other stipulations or demands – just the ability to choose. No more games. You and me, in our purest form.” With the last word’s delivery, Will’s lips were within inches of Hannibal’s, the smallest move enough to break the distance. 

Sucking in a couple of shaky breaths, Hannibal reached up, gripping Will’s hand on the side of his face. It was grounding, a physical reminder of a connection that felt unreal otherwise.

The simplest “yes” came seconds before Hannibal closed the distance and pressed their lips together in a breathtaking kiss. In all his hedonism, Hannibal hadn’t found anything else that felt like this – like the world tipped on its axis, like nothing else existed. 

Will tilted his head, deepening the kiss with the small shift. Their tongues met at the seam of Hannibal’s mouth; the tangle absent of a fight for dominance. The time for power plays and submission past long ago – touch now was about connection, plain and simple. 

Minutes past where they simple sipped from each other’s mouths, Hannibal taking his time to categorize every tooth and not-so-smooth ridge at the roof of Will’s mouth. Will returned the favor by tracing Hannibal’s lips – his hands moving wildly in his exploration. Little by little, the layers between them stripped down to nothing – their skin bare and slightly sticky from sweat and excitement. 

Hannibal ended up between the v of Will’s thighs, their erections lined up so nicely, every roll of his hips brought the most delicious friction. Will’s stomach was firm, practically hairless everywhere except for the line leading to the thick thatch of pubic hair right above his cock. Their physical contrast extended all the way down to their lengths, where Will was cut, the tip of Hannibal’s cock pressed excitedly out of the sheath of foreskin. Every juxtaposition a reminder of their differences, and every swift move as one drove the importance of their connection home. They were made for each other, from every difference to shocking and unsettling similarity. 

“Will you fuck me? I wonder if you’ve thought about it as much as I have. I bet you’ve pictured it with startlingly clarity in the many rooms of your mind palace. Sometimes, I think I cross from my mind into yours during those times. My thoughts and feelings just as much yours as they are mine.” 

“We share many rooms, Will – you exist in places you shouldn’t, in rooms that I haven’t cracked the door on in many years. There’s no telling where the connection ends.” Hannibal forced his hips to a screeching halt, the stimulus so close to too much. “Do you want me? Inside of you the only way I haven’t been before?” 

“Yes – yes, Hannibal. I want you – all of you.”

Without waiting another second, Hannibal shifted, his hands gripping Will’s hips in an instant. He used his leverage to turn Will onto his belly, the gasp of breath upon connection making his cock twitch. Good planning and a little bit of hope had him putting a bottle of lube in his bag before leaving the house in Baltimore. A soft smile slipped across his lips at the thought – the two of them coming full circle after all. 

Grabbing it from his side table, Hannibal dropped the bottle to the mattress, neglecting the slick in favor of ducking between Will’s cheeks to lave at his tight hole with his tongue, lips, and teeth. The tip of his tongue traced around Will’s pucker, feeling with a fascinated pride as the muscle started to loosen under his ministrations. He drew back and let the flat of his tongue run from ass to balls and back again. It was like a feast previously denied – the taste and smell an intoxicating cocktail that Hannibal wanted to drown himself in. 

Will pushed back against him, every teasing lick and press in with the tip of his tongue dragging out noises and selfish thrusts for more. Hannibal took it as the challenge it was, doubling his effort – his tongue thrust in and out of the now-loosened hole, the wet squelch of it obscene in the otherwise silent room. 

Hannibal’s cock throbbed in reminder of the real end goal, the tightness around his tongue and finger he pressed inside was delicious, promising in each clench and firing of the muscle. Reluctantly he drew back, licking up the remnants of Will’s delicacy while distractedly opening the cap of the lube. Slick hit his skin, a big pool of it sitting in the palm of his hand where he warmed it up with his high body temperature. Coating his fingers, Hannibal lightly traced Will’s rim, then pressed them both inside. 

Warmth and tightness sucked the digits in, the tip of his long fingers just a shift away from colliding with the sensitive bundle of nerves guaranteed to light Will up. Scissoring his fingers and purposefully ignoring his prostate, Hannibal impatiently stretched the other’s walls, every ounce of patience going into the tenderness of the needed prep. He wanted to simply slam home, fill Will up and finally take his rightful place; inside Will in every way possible. Hannibal knew, though, this first time meant a lot – it would go off much better for them both if enjoyment was the name of the game, not just completion. 

Two fingers moved into three with little fanfare. Will babbled things that lost their meaning before they reached Hannibal’s ears – the choked off words fading into the sweetest moans. While he worked Will over, Hannibal touched and kissed everything he could reach with his free hand and spit-sticky lips. Every press inside drove him crazy, the desperation adding to the delicacy of well-earned pleasure. 

“Hannibal, I’m good – I’m so good. Please.” Will huffed out, looking over his shoulder with lust heavy eyes. “I want you inside of me.” 

With a quick breath, Hannibal pulled his fingers free – not missing the exaggerated sigh of discontentment that dripped from Will’s mouth. He gripped Will’s hips, flipping him back over and onto his back. “I want to see you,” Hannibal explained, the words some of the last he’d get out from that point on. 

A trickle of lube dragged a shiver from him, Hannibal spreading the cool slick up and down the length of his needy erection with a couple of efficient strokes. If he gave himself anymore, there wasn’t any stopping a hasty completion. With a tight grip to the base of his cock, Hannibal traced Will’s rim, spreading lube and teasing at the loosened muscle. 

Will lifted his legs and wrapped them high on Hannibal’s stomach, the angle of his hips causing the hard tip of Hannibal’s erection to break past the first ring of muscle and slip barely inside. Unable to stop himself, Hannibal thrust forward slowly, entering Will fully with one stroke.

“Fuck…” Will groaned, his hole twitchy around Hannibal – the tips of his fingers digging into the dense muscle of the doctor’s arms. “You’re so deep.” 

Blue eyes looked up at him in wonder, the spark in them flaring when Hannibal leaned forward until they were pressed chest to chest, the angle of Will’s hips shifting once more. In this position, their lips easily found each other, the warm kisses in time with the small thrust of Hannibal’s hips. While Will adjusted around him, Hannibal soaked up the warmth – every second inside Will carving a permanent place for him there. 

Breaking the kiss, Will’s hands vacated their position on Hannibal’s arms to grip his cheeks, the touch giving him the slightest bit of leverage. “Take me – I want you to.” 

The words were like a gift of freedom Hannibal didn’t know he was waiting for. Maroon eyes locked onto blue, his hips drawing back and thrusting forward without every breaking the stare. Hannibal wanted Will to know who brought him pleasure – to see in the depths of his eyes the truth of where and who he belonged to. Every thrust gradually increased in intensity, a desperate need to bring them off driving every one of Hannibal’s moves. With every shift, his balls slapped against Will’s skin, and as the pace increased, the bedframe moved, banging against the wall in no time at all. 

Lips pressed against Will’s ear, Hannibal began fucking him ruthlessly, all semblances of control happily let go of and gone. “You’re mine, Will Graham. Mine.” Hannibal grunted every word against the side of his head, a hard thrust punctuating each one. 

“Yours. And you’re mine. Always.” 

“God – Always, Will,” Hannibal choked out, his face burying into Will’s hair, the end smacking into his chest without warning. As his orgasm washed over him, Hannibal fucked through it. He felt Will clench and pulse around him, sticky cum between them pulling another shudder of pleasure from the base of Hannibal’s spine. 

They collapsed into a messy heap, Will cradling an overwhelmed Hannibal to his chest. In the madness, a cascade of emotions fought around his walls, stripping him bare with their very existence. Will probably didn’t need empathy to feel the cacophony of sentiment. 

Wrapped up like that for a while, Hannibal relaxed until the edges of sleep clouded his vision. He shifted to get up but stopped when Will held him tighter. “Stay.” 

Smiling, wholeheartedly for once, Hannibal let himself be held in the protective circle of Will’s arms – something like happiness washing over him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking around, yall! 
> 
> Up next: Abigail makes an appearance (& so does Jack)! 
> 
> I'm on tumblr (whispersthroughthechrysalis) - come join me!


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